Love Will Tear Us Apart
by Pheobe Caulfield
Summary: “Thank you for last night,” she said. “I would appreciate your discretion on this…I don’t know if I can handle any questions at the moment.” Draco nodded. “Of course. If you need anything, you know where I am.”
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

_But where do you go to my lovely  
When you're alone in your bed  
Tell me the thoughts that surround you  
I want to look inside your head, yes i do._

Hermione sat on the couch in the common room for Head Boy and Girl, staring blankly at a letter that had arrived so late in the night. The owl had woken her up at 2 in the morning rapping on the window in the common room. She had hurried to get it, afraid that it would wake Draco up and she wasn't in the mood to deal with another one of his tantrums. She couldn't understand what had been so urgent that it couldn't wait until the morning, but now she realized.

"Granger, I swear to god you're going to pay for this." Draco stomped into the room, with nothing more than boxers on. His hair was plastered to half of his face and his eyes were still heavy with sleep, but he somehow still managed to carry himself like he was the King of England. And he spoke like it too. "If we weren't graduating in less than two weeks I'd have switched back to the Slytherin House, six other boys aren't as bad as you." Draco stopped talking to wait for her response. Hermione could feel his eyes on her, waiting for her to snap back but nothing came out of her mouth. She could give as much as he could when it came to arguing, but this time she could barely bring herself to move her head.

She kept her eyes focused on the part of the letter addressed to her, she was scared that if she moved a muscle, even her eyes, she would lose control. She stared at her name written in her mother's script, tracing every curve.

"Granger, did you hear me?" Draco asked, but his voice had less of a bite to it.

Hermione blinked. She looked up at him, expressionless. She didn't think she could form the words she needed to express what had happened. She merely held out the letter to him.

Draco approached her, his eyes furrowed together. "What is this?" he asked as he took the letter from her. She watched as he scanned the letter, his mouth slowly dropping open, his previous aggravation disappearing into something less definable. He looked at her, not speaking.

Hermione forced herself to say the words. "He got hit by a car yesterday," she said, even though he already knew. "The funeral is going to be Thursday…" her voice came out flat and unrecognizable.

"Grang-" Draco stopped himself. "Hermione, I'm sorry." He sat down next to her slowly. "I-I'm so sorry."

Hermione nodded. Her body felt numb, she focused on anything she could to avoid thinking about what she had just found out. She traced the pattern on the carpet with her eyes, counted the lines on the table. She didn't know how long she sat there, but Draco never moved. Finally though—

"I think I'm going to be sick." Hermione closed her eyes, trying to keep the bile from her throat from rising. She felt Draco pull her up from the couch and quickly guide her into one of their rooms to the bathroom. He placed her carefully in front of the toilet and gathered her hair back as she retched. She shook violently, and Draco pulled her closer to him, rubbing her back as she emptied her stomach.

She pulled away from the porcelain bowl and Draco handed her a towel. She wiped her mouth and closed her eyes, falling into his chest. She started sobbing, the kind that rips your chest open and suffocates you all at the same time. Draco pressed her close to his chest, he was rubbing her arms, her hair anything to try and calm her down but she barely noticed. She could only think about the unavoidable truth that her father was dead.

Hermione moved slowly, feeling her surroundings. It felt like her bed, but the smell was different. She moved her arms across the sheets but it made contact with something soft and warm. There was a soft _umph_ that issued from the thing she had hit. Not thing, person. Draco.

Hermione opened her eyes slowly and it took her a minute to remember why her eyes were so wet and puffy. Had she been crying in her sleep? The room was still dark, she couldn't have been out for that long. "What time is it?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

"Around 3:30. You've only been asleep for thirty minutes, try and go back to bed." Draco said softly. She didn't think he had ever used that tone with anyone before. It was soothing and low.

Hermione sniffed as her tears welled up again. She didn't even remember getting in bed, Draco must have put her here. She pressed her face into the pillow and tried to quiet herself.

"Hey, now. Don't start that again," Draco scooted closer to her, gently dislodging her from the pillow and pulling her into his chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and gently hushed her. "Everything will be okay, I promise."

Through the haze of her grief, Hermione puzzled why Draco was acting so nice to her. He was going above and beyond what she would expect from him in a situation like this. His actions were closer to a boyfriend or husband, not someone she constantly argued with. But she didn't rest on the thought long, she was too distracted to care why he was doing it, she was just grateful that he was. She wrapped an arm around his torso and intertwined their legs; she was clinging to him like he was a life preserver. He was the only thing keeping her head above water.

She drifted in and out of sleep for the rest of the night, but each time she woke up, Draco was there, either rubbing her back or telling her quietly to try and sleep more.

But eventually the morning light began to creep through the curtains and she couldn't get herself to sleep any longer. She saw her surroundings properly for the first time and realized that the décor was the green and silver of Slytherin. Hermione knew that had this happened under any other circumstance she would be in a rage and demand to know why he hadn't put her in her own bed and let her sleep by herself. But now she didn't care. She felt detached from herself, anything that had been important before last night didn't matter anymore. It didn't matter that she was in Draco's bed, what mattered was that he was there for her when she needed someone, he was the one comforting her the entire night and reassuring her that everything was going to be okay, even though she knew it was just a lie. But the lie was a nice one.

Hermione tried to gently disengage herself from Draco, they were in an intimate position for two people who barely knew each other. Well, depending on how you looked at it Hermione knew quite a lot about Draco and his family. But she had no idea what his favorite cereal was, which Quidditch team he supported, what kind of literature he read, or if he even read at all. And most of all she had no idea that he was capable of acting the way he had last night.

As she extracted herself from him he let out a low moan.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked groggily.

"I should probably get up, it's morning."

"It's barely light out, Hermione." Draco rubbed his eyes with the hand that wasn't lodged underneath Hermione and sat up a slightly. "It's probably not even 7 yet."

"Well, you know better than anyone I like to get a head start on the day. I have a lot of things I need to take care of…"

Draco nodded in understanding. He let her slide away from him. She made it to the door, but then stopped and turned to face him.

"Thank you for last night," she said. "I would appreciate your discretion on this…I don't know if I can handle any questions at the moment."

Draco nodded again. "Of course. If you need anything, you know where I am."

Hermione exited his room into the bright common room. She espied the letter on the middle of the floor but didn't pick it up. She knew that he was dead, but having the paper in her hands would make it more palpable, more real. She went to her room and went through the motions of getting ready for the day. It was all she could do.

_7 years later_

Draco Malfoy woke with a start, his bedroom was far too bright for the time he should have been awake.

He turned and grabbed his clock to check the time; it was half past 12 in the afternoon.

"Shit!" He cursed as he jumped out of bed, nearly tossing the sleeping girl beside him onto the floor. She let out a groan of annoyance.

"Draco, whas goin' on?" she asked, still half asleep.

"Look, I have to go. You know where the door is. And if you take anything, I'll know." He said as he threw on a shirt and pulled up his jeans that he had worn last night. They reeked of stale cigarettes and alcohol, but he didn't have time to change, he was already late and he knew how much it irritated Hermione when he kept her waiting.

"Yeesh, all right," the girl flipped to her other side and continued to snooze as Draco raced out the door.

He spotted her immediately when he entered the restaurant, her brown hair was hard to miss after all these years. It was the one thing that had stayed the same about her, though she had gotten it down to glossy curls instead of the ball of frizz she sported while they were at Hogwarts. Like he expected, she was stirring a coffee with a frown on her face. She looked at her watch in irritation, not having noticed him yet.

He rushed to the table, slightly out of breath.

"Hey." He said, taking a seat across from her.

She looked up at him and her expression didn't change. "No, hey would have been acceptable thirty minutes ago. I think I deserve a little more than a _hey_ right now." She said, crossing her arms across her chest.

Draco sighed, he was too hungover to think of an acceptable reason for why he was late. "I'm sorry, Granger. I had a rough night."

"Yes, so I smell." Hermione wrinkled her noise.

Draco cocked a grin, giving her his best _Well, what can I say?_ face. She rolled her eyes and motioned for the waitress.

"Another coffee, please, for my friend here. Black," she said.

"Would you like anything else?" the waitress asked, her pen poised over her pad.

"Bacon and eggs, over easy. And some toast. And hashbrowns." Draco ordered without looking at the menu.

"We stop serving breakfast at 11, sir."

"Ah, really?" Draco quickly glanced at Hermione. "That's really a shame, Sarah." He said, reading her name off her nametag. "You know I had a girlfriend named Sarah once."

"Really?"

Draco slung his elbow on the back of his chair so that he could face her full on. "Yeah, not as pretty as you though," he said, giving her his killer grin. If this didn't work, they would have to find another place that served breakfast.

She blushed and giggled. "I'll see what I can do about your eggs and bacon."

"You're a doll," he said, giving her a wink. "And don't forget the toast and hashbrowns."

With another giggle she grabbed their menus and departed.

Draco turned to Hermione with a wide grin on his face. She merely stared back at him shaking her head.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?"

Draco shrugged, "I'm a hungry man, Granger. I have to use what I got to get what I want."

Hermione shook her head again, "Which is what you were doing last night, no doubt. Who is she this time, Draco? I can't imagine there are any good looking girls left in London for you to fuck since you've already gotten to them all."

"Hey, now," Draco straightened himself in his chair. "I don't lecture you about fucking."

"Maybe you would if I slept with another guy every night."

"Eh, maybe. What's got your skivies in a bunch? You're extra..." Draco fished around for the right word. "Tenacious today."

Hermione heaved a sigh, she knew when she was being a bitch, which was one thing Draco liked about Hermione. She at least recognized it when it was happening.

"Aside from you being a half an hour late?"

"Aside from that."

Hermione didn't answer for a moment. "Ron and I broke up." She said tersely.

"Finally!" Draco threw his hands in the air. "How long have I been telling you to dump that loser?"

Hermione didn't respond, but looked down at her coffee.

"Wait, did he break up with you?"

Draco sighed when she didn't respond. "I can't believe that asshole broke up with you."

Hermione sniffed daintily and looked up at him. Her eyes were completely dry. "It was for the best, really. He and Harry are abroad so much, it didn't make sense to keep trying."

"Harry and Ginny are still together." Draco said, but he had a feeling he wasn't making her feel any better.

"Well, some people are just better at relationships, I suppose." She said loftily, taking a sip of her coffee.

"He was a git from the start, there was no making that relationship work."

"Yes, well regardless. How have you been? I daresay you've gotten yourself into plenty of shenagnigans in the week I haven't seen you."

The two sat there chatting for the next couple hours, as was their ritual for 7 years. Of course it didn't always work out, life did get in the way on occasion. But they would make up for it, grabbing a quick coffee when they could. Occasionally they would go out for drinks, but Hermione rarely let herself into those situations. They always ended the same way.

"So, we're on for next Saturday?" Draco asked as they exited the restaurant. "My turn to pick, next time we might not have a waitress I can hit on and you know I need breakfast."

"Actually, I'm busy."

"Doing what?" Draco asked as they walked down the street to the train.

"I'm moving out," Hermione said as she waited for the crosswalk sign to turn green.

"Wait, you're moving out and you weren't going to ask for my help?" Draco asked, turning to her. She was still busy watching the traffic and avoiding his eye.

"I know how much you dislike Ron and I figured keeping you two apart would be for the best."

Draco snorted, "That doesn't mean I'm not going to help you. Do you even have a place to live yet?"

Hermione started walking across the street and didn't answer.

"Granger, did you hear me? I asked if you had a place to live."

Hermione stopped abruptly once they had reached the other side of the street and rounded on him. "No, I don't! I don't have a place to live and I need to be out by Saturday and I have no idea what I'm doing or where I'm going, okay? Are you happy?" she screeched.

Draco pulled her to the side of the street so they were out of the way of the other pedestrians, some of whom had looked over at her sudden outburst.

"Why would I be happy about that?" he asked with his hand still firmly gripped on her arm.

"Because you've always said the entire time we've been together that it was going to end badly and it has, so you're right! You should be positively _thrilled_ right now, you always are when you get your way."

Draco shook his head. She couldn't be serious about this. "Hermione," he used her first name to let her know he meant business, "I would never be happy about you being hurt, especially by that sorry excuse for a man. Don't wait till next Saturday, get your stuff and you can move in with me until you find a place of your own."

Hermione hesitated. "I don't know if that's a good idea, Draco. It can't be that hard to find a place…"

"Hermione, it'll be impossible for you to find a livable apartment in this short of time that's actually affordable. I have more than enough room for the two of us, you'll barely see me if you don't want to."

He could tell that Hermione was seriously considering his offer. She was biting her lower lip as she weighed her options. He took advantage of her hesitation.

"Look, you don't want to spend another week with that git so I'll come over tomorrow morning, we'll pack up your stuff and have you moved into my place in time for afternoon tea. This isn't permanent, Hermione. It's just until you get back on your feet." He squeezed her arm in reassurance.

"All right, but under one condition," she said.

"What's that?" he asked, grinning.

"I'm not sleeping with you," she said firmly.

Draco laughed, "Are you sure that's something you want me to promise? You'll be losing out."

Hermione returned a small smile. "Just promise me that you won't try to."

"Yeah, yeah," Draco waved her off. "Whatever you want, princess."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N-**Thank you to everyone who reviewed, it's greatly appreciated. This chapter is shorter than I wanted it to be, but the next chapter should be satisfying enough. Oh, and these lyrics are a small ode to Michael Jackson.

---

You're not like anybody I ever knew

But that don't mean that I don't know where we are

And though I find myself attracted to you

This time I'm trying not to go too far

---

Draco sat languidly with his head resting in his hand as Blaise presented his report. The man had different charts and graphs hanging in midair that were moving in sync to his wand. Draco had lost track of what his friend and co-worker was saying not long after the presentation had started, his mind wandering on its own accord.

"And then I shagged your mother last night while your father watched." Blaise said with a wave of his wand making the charts disappear.

Draco started. "What did you say?" he asked, straightening up in his chair.

"You weren't listening to a word I was saying, were you?" Blaise asked as he sat in the chair in front of Draco's desk.

Draco rubbed the back of his neck, "No, I'm sorry. I've been a bit distracted lately."

"I've noticed. We have a huge deal coming up in three weeks. We can't afford any slips." Blaise said pointedly.

"I'm well aware of that," Draco snapped, not liking the implication in Blaise's last sentence. He rose and walked over to the large picture window that gave him a magnificent view of London. He was agitated that he couldn't concentrate on his work, yet he couldn't pinpoint exactly what was distracting him so. Yes, there was Hermione of course, but they had hardly even seen each other since she had moved in three weeks ago. They had both been so busy with their own lives that the most he had been able to say to her was 'good morning' as they both rushed out of the apartment.

"What's going on then?" Blaise asked, turning the chair to face Draco.

"Nothing. It's just been an odd couple weeks, is all."

"Have you looked over those proposals I sent you on Monday?" Blaise asked, seeming to already know the answer.

Draco sighed, he had completely forgotten about them. "Not yet. I'll finish them up tonight." He turned back to the window, away from Blaise.

Blaise nodded, and stood. "I'll be in my office if you need me. Here," Blaise waved his wand and a stack of papers appeared on his desk. "A summary of my presentation, in case you want to go over it again."

Draco waited until he heard his door snap before he returned to his desk. He sat down, regarding the mass of papers in front of him warily. He was in no mood to be working right now, which is the last thing the company needed. It was still suffering repercussions from the war, and Draco had fought tooth and nail to try and get it restored back to its original standing. The Malfoy name had taken a hard hit, that was for sure, but Harry had looked favorably on his family. His father was still in Azkaban, yes, but his mother and he had been spared any sentencing. They had to pay large sums of money for restoration efforts, but he hadn't minded. Their situation could be far worse, but the business was starting to flourish as it once had thanks to certain reforms Draco had made within the company. With more work, Draco could put the business in better shape than his father had left it.

Draco began shifting the papers apart, glancing over them. Over the years he had become a brilliant businessman. It had taken time getting used to, but his sharp intellect and wit were a boon to him in the office. But this was not the kind of work he had envisioned for himself. He had always known that eventually he would have to take over the reigns once his father retired, but he had anticipated that far off down the road, not before he turned twenty. No, this was indeed not something he wanted to be doing.

Draco silenced the voice screaming inside his head and tapped his wand on the intercom.

"Silvand, bring me a coffee and a Pepper-Up potion." Draco readied himself for a long night.

---

Hermione was draining the spaghetti when she heard the door slam. She pursed her lips, Draco wasn't one to slam doors. Well, as far as she knew.

Her eyes widened as Draco stormed into the kitchen, his eyes ablaze. He slammed his briefcase down on the table and threw his cloak onto the chair with such a force that it nearly toppled over.

Hermione opened her mouth to ask what had happened but he beat her to it.

"Have you seen the Prophet today?" he demanded, the force of his voice startling her.

"N-no, why?" she stuttered, she wasn't used to seeing Draco so upset.

He pulled out a copy from his suit and threw it down on top of the kitchen counter for her to read.

"Bottom article," he snarled, beginning to pace.

Her eyes found what he had been the source of his aggravation.

**Lucius Malfoy, Former Death-Eater, to be Released From Azkaban**

"Oh." Hermione said softly. She looked up at Draco.

"You-you aren't happy then?" she asked timidly.

"Do I look happy?" he snapped.

Hermione felt herself shrink back from his ferocity. She wasn't usually one to stand down to people, but she had never seen him so out of control before.

"She didn't even tell me!" Draco growled, throwing up his hands.

"Who?"

"My mother! I talk to her everyday and she never said a word!" Draco thundered into the living room where Hermione followed him. She watched as he poured himself a glass of amber liquid, downed it and refilled it once again.

"After all that I've done for them and the company you would think she would have the decency to tell me that my own father was being released from prison before I found out about it in the _Prophet_," he spat the last word and polished off his glass, only to fill it with yet another.

"Slow down, Draco," Hermione said, overcoming her initial shock a bit.

"Don't tell me what to do."

"Stop taking this out on me then I won't!" she retorted, folding her arms across her chest.

They glared at each other for a moment. But he surprised her by taking a deep breath and sinking into the leather armchair. "I'm sorry," he said stiffly. "I didn't meant to yell…it's just been a stressful couple of weeks and with this on top of everything else…" he shook his head and brought his glass to his lips, but this time only taking a sip.

"It's all right, I understand why you're upset." She said, relaxing her stance. "It's terrible that she didn't tell you."

Draco shook her head. "I don't understand it. He was supposed to be in there for life."

Hermione pursed her lips, not knowing what to say. "People change, Draco."

Draco turned to her, his eyebrows raised. "You, of all people in the world, think that my father could have changed?"

Hermione hesitated. "Your father did some awful things. But after the war, with everyone we lost…it's not my place to condemn a person. If the ministry has decided that your father is worthy of being released then I can only believe that something drastic must have changed within Lucius." Hermione said the words wanting them to be true. The idea of Lucius Malfoy changing personalities was as easy to believe as a leopard changing his spots, but what else was she to think? Years ago her first thought would have jumped to corruption and coercion to get him out, but Kingsley Shacklebolt was doing an outstanding job as the Minister of Magic and she knew that any decision to release someone from Azkaban would not be taken lightly.

She watched as Draco sat there, his face blank. She knew that despite his expression his mind was whirling and she wished she could have a peek inside. Even with knowing him for all these years she still had a hard time getting past his mask.

Draco stood abruptly.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked.

"Going to see my mother," he said, throwing back the last of his drink and going to get his cloak. "I don't know how long I'll be there, so don't wait up for me."

Hermione was stung at his coarseness, though she didn't know what she else she had expected. She merely watched as he threw the sparkling Floo powder into the fireplace. A second later he was gone in a swirl of green flames.

---

"Mother!" Draco called as he walked through his family's manor. The place was so expansive that inevitably you could never find the person you were looking for when you really needed them.

"Oh, damn it all. Walby!" Draco yelled unnecessarily loud for the house elf. All that was required of Draco was simply to mutter the elf's name, but he was so frustrated at the moment he was finding anyway he could to vent.

A loud crack alerted him to Walby's presence. "What can I be doing for Mr. Malfoy, sir?"

"Where is my mother?" Draco asked sharply.

"She is being away, sir."

"Since when? Do you know where she is? When she'll return?"

"I is not knowing when she'll return, sir. She says something about going to a dinner party at a friend of the family's."

Draco took a deep breath through his nose before speaking. "You wouldn't happen to know _which_ friend of the family?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"She mentions something about a Pansy, sirs."

Draco nodded his head. "Right. That will be all."

The house elf bowed deeply before disappearing with a crack.

Draco walked numbly into the family room in the east wing of the manor. He slumped onto the couch, his rush of adrenaline had been drained of him now that he had nowhere to expend his anger. His mother was at a dinner party at what seemed to be the Parkinson residence. He knew there would be no point in showing up and causing a scene. Besides, things like that just weren't _done_ in his mother's circle. He had to just wait till she decided to pour herself into bed, which could be at anytime from 11 to 2 in the morning.

Draco rubbed his tired eyes. He had been ready for a long night at the office when Silvand had brought in the paper with his coffee and told him "he should probably have a look." He had skimmed down the first page until his eyes reached the bottom and he had nearly dropped his mug. At first he had thought it was some kind of joke, but then he had read the rest of the article, saying how Lucius was to be released in a week and that details where yet to be determined. It had gone into a brief biography of his father, concentrating mostly on the "deeds" he had committed while being enlisted under Voldemort. Malfoy's own name crept up, along with his mother's as well as Harry Potter's, something that was inevitable whenever the war was mentioned.

He had been seeing red by the end of the article and had left the office without any explanation to Blaise or his assistant.

Draco walked over to the massive window and opened the curtains. The sun was beginning to set, though he couldn't see it from his current location. He was beginning to feel the pangs of guilt for having yelled at Hermione the way he did. He knew he already apologized, but he didn't feel like that was adequate enough. He had never spoken to her like that before and it wasn't sitting right with him. He walked towards the room he had Flooed into, making up his mind to spend some time with her. His mother wouldn't be home for hours anyway.

---

Hermione jumped as she heard the faint whooshing as Draco came through the fireplace. She hadn't been expecting him to come back so soon. It was silly, she knew, but she had been curled up reading a book, waiting for him even though he had told her not to.

"Hey," he said softly as he noticed her sitting there.

Hermione put her book down. "Are you okay?"

Draco nodded stiffly. "She wasn't home, she was at some dinner party. I decided to come back here until the morning."

Hermione nodded her head, not knowing what to say. "Are you hungry?"

Draco laughed suddenly. It wasn't a lasting one, just a quick burst and then it was gone.

"What was that?" she asked, not sure what he reaction should be. She was scared Draco was finally starting to crack.

"I'm sorry," Draco said, a ghost of a smile still lingering on his face. "Food does seem to be the cure all at times like this."

Hermione blushed. "I didn't' mean it like that, I just finished dinn-"

Draco cut her off, "I know, I'm just…" Draco let his sentence trail off as he fished for the right words. "I'm not quite myself right now."

"You aren't angry anymore, then?" Hermione asked.

"I'm more shocked than anything."

Hermione nodded, "That's probably an understatement. I'm sorry you had to find out like this."

"Me too."

Again lost for words, she rose to fix him dinner. "I'll get you something to eat."

Hermione busied herself in the kitchen when Draco entered a moment after, carrying the crystal bottle of bourbon.

"Have a drink with me."

Hermione smiled. "You know I don't drink that stuff."

"There's wine in the fridge. Chablis, you'll like it."

Hermione sighed and consented, getting the bottle out and popping the cork off with her wand. She poured herself a glass and held it out to Draco to cheer.

He held up his bottle and Hermione couldn't help but laugh.

"What exactly our we toasting to?" Draco asked before they put together their respective drinks.

"Oh, why not to us?"

"To us, have we done something to deserve being toasted?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "To us, for dealing with everything that comes our way with undeniable grace and poise."

Draco raised an eyebrow, "I'll drink to that."

Hermione smiled while she took a sip of the wine and Draco practically emptied half of his bottle.

They ate, while Draco slowly but surely got hammered and Hermione watched him quietly. He was more reserved than usual when he drank.

"You know, my father is always the voice in the back of my head," he drawled as they sat in the living room, she laying the couch and he sitting on the floor near her head. "Despite everything that he's done and how much he's been in the wrong, he's always the person I look to for approval. Even in fucking prison I can't get away from him."

Hermione kept her mouth shut, the idea of Draco having to seek approval from a man like Lucius made her stomach turn.

"I don't know what it will be like when he gets out."

"With the company?"

"Everything."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows as she rubbed her thumb along the stem of her glass. "How do you mean?"

Draco sighed. "My mother loves me. She's done what she could these past couple years to make me happy, meaning that she's overlooked certain social protocols that normally wouldn't have been allowed had my father been present. You, for instance."

"Me?"

"Living with another woman that I wasn't married to would never have been accepted by my father, especially you."

Hermione frowned. "Why especially me?" She asked automatically, even though she knew the answer. It was glaringly obvious, there was a war fought to exterminate people like her.

Draco didn't answer.

"It's not like this is a permanent arrangement," said Hermione. "We have a week until your father is released, maybe I can get out of here before he even finds out." As she said the words she internally cringed, she had stopped actively searching for an apartment a couple days after she had moved in. She had gotten caught up with work and it turned out that living with Draco was more comfortable than she had anticipated.

Draco shook his head. "I don't want you rushing, and there would be no point. My mother would tell him everything anyway."

"I know you're worried about him, but he can't possibly think that he can control your life anymore. You're an adult and you've proved yourself capable of handling things on your own."

"You don't know my father."

Hermione waited for Draco to continue, but he remained silent.

"I know him better than you think."

Draco rubbed his eyes. "Pretending for five minutes that he's done a 180 degree turn from the man he was before he went to prison, I still don't think he would be okay with us living together."

"Yes, we've already established that. But what is he going to do to stop you from doing what you want? You have plenty of money saved up so you don't need his financial support."

"Money isn't the issue, Granger. Were you not listening to my heartfelt rant about needing his approval?"

Hermione frowned. "So what you're saying is that you would rather do what you can to gain the approval of a man who murdered and tortured countless people than keep a life that makes you happy, no matter what your father thinks?"

"Who says I'm happy with this life?" Draco snapped.

Hermione flinched.

"He's my father, Granger. You said it yourself that even though he's done terrible things he must have changed. Regardless, he's family and if he and my mother can be happy again then I want to do what I can to facilitate that, not cause problems."

Hermione pursed her lips, keeping any further comments to herself. She could see that the topic of Draco's family still wasn't a subject that was ready to be breached. She wasn't sure if there ever would be a time that it would be okay to discuss it fully, but she wasn't too eager for that day to come.

"It's getting late." She said curtly.

He didn't answer.

"Draco?" Her voice softened slightly.

He finally answered. "Yes, it's very late. I'm going to send an owl to my mother to let her know I'll be stopping by tomorrow." He got up, perfectly steady despite the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed.

Hermione stood up, straightening her skirt.

"I'll see you in the morning."

Draco nodded and leaned forward, placing a firm kiss on her forehead, his hand cupping the back of her head. She stiffened from surprise, the smell of his cologne and alcohol washing over her. He pulled away slightly, but she could still feel the warmth radiating off his lips. He moved his head slightly, placing another kiss on her left temple.

"'Night," he breathed against her, sending shivers down her spine.

And with that, he turned and disappeared into the hallway leaving Hermione wide-eyed and flustered holding her half empty wine glass.


	3. Chapter 3

**Burning Desire**

Draco popped into the living room of his parent's manor for the third time that day, brushing off ash on his suit with unnecessary force as his annoyance was reaching a breaking point. He had stopped in once earlier that morning, another time during his lunch break, and now, finally after he had left work. If he knew his mother, and he thought he did, he would have thought that she was avoiding him. He turned around at the sound of a rustling noise in the corner of the room and spotted Walby scrubbing a ridiculously ornate vase with a toothbrush.

"Walby, have you seen my mother?" Draco asked carefully, trying to control his anger from seeping out on the creature. His father would be returning soon enough, Walby needed as much kindness he could get before being subjected to that kind of treatment.

"You're just missing her, sir," Walby squeaked out, his right eye twitching as he looked up from his task.

Draco sighed and slumped onto the couch. "Well, I can wait then," said Draco stubbornly. "Bring me something to eat, will you?"

Walby bowed. "What will the master be having this evening?"

"I don't know, whatever looks good," Draco covered his eyes with his arm. "And thanks!" Draco blurted out quickly before the elf had disappeared, he could almost hear Hermione's voice in his ear chastising him about not showing elves proper respect and dignity and a load of other bollocks he didn't care to remember. Draco snorted to himself at the thought of Hermione's voice replacing his father's in the back of his head. "How ridiculous."

"What's ridiculous?"

Draco jumped slightly at the voice, not because of its presence but because of its owner. He knew without turning who was standing in the doorway of the parlor, yet he knew it would be rude to just ignore her no matter how desperately he wanted to.

Draco stood and faced the doorway, attempting to hide the bitterness in his smile. "Pansy, what an unexpected surprise," he said smoothly.

"I didn't think that I would see you here," Pansy said slowly, leaning casually against the dark oak doorway. Her large, full lips were painted a deep red, and Draco had to remember not to think about how they felt pressed up against his own. Currently, they were curled in a sly smile he knew she wore when she her mind was running on an alternate set of wheels than normal.

"Yes, well the feeling's mutual. Although I must say, it's a bit more unusual to say that to someone when you aren't actually in your own home," Draco said pointedly, placing his hands in his pockets.

"I've been spending quite a bit of time with your mother lately. She misses you," said Pansy.

Draco had to consciously stop himself from rolling his eyes. "And so you're here because..?" he prompted again, beginning to get annoyed by the forced politeness. What he really wanted to do was to tell her to get the hell out of his house, but he had to _try_ and be the bigger person.

"Oh, your mother told me she had some old dresses that I might like. She's set them out for me in her room, I was just stopping by to pick them up when I heard your voice."

"You wouldn't know where my mother is, would you?" Draco asked, perking up at the idea of Pansy's presence actually being useful.

Pansy thought for a moment. "I think she said that she was going into the city to do some shopping and then meeting some friends for dinner."

Draco dropped his head. "Of course."

"Is that genuine disappointment I hear?" Pansy pushed herself off the wall and took several steps towards Draco, who without thinking took a step back. Pansy raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry," Draco let out a short, humorless laugh. "It's just…"

Pansy crossed her arms, looking slightly offended. "I know things are different now. I just thought we could both be adults about this and be friends."

Draco nodded. "Friends…right. Maybe."

"Draco, it's been almost six months." Pansy uncrossed her arms slowly and took another step towards him.

Draco stiffened, but this time remained stationary. "You cheated on me with one of my best friends," said Draco bluntly. He could still remember how the scent of that overpriced, pungent cologne had hit him in the face the day he came home from work early (he always cringed at how cliché it all was), and how shocked he had been to see Pansy's black slip alongside a pair of slacks that were definitely not apart of his wardrobe.

Pansy stopped her advance. "I know, I think about it everyday," she pleaded. "Draco, if there's one thing in my life I regret it's how I—"

"Pansy," Draco put up a hand to stop her. "I don't want to hear it," he said, dropping the niceties of the conversation. "It's bad enough that I have to see you in my own house, but don't spout this bullshit to me about being sorry about how you royally fucked things up between us." He paused for a moment before adding. "Twice!"

Pansy winced, and it shot a slight jolt of pleasure down his spine to see her squirm. She opened her mouth to argue, but then seemed to reconsider. "Well, if you ever feel up to talking, you know where to find me," said Pansy quietly, turning to exit the room. "Oh, and say hello to your father for me," she said, placing a hand on the doorway and turning her head slightly. "I expect you'll be seeing him soon enough." And with that she was gone.

Draco threw up his hands, stifling a cry of frustration he knew Pansy would have been able to hear down the hallway. Of all the times to run into his ex, today had to be the day. It couldn't have been at a bar while he was surrounded by beautiful women, it had to be after a night of heavy drinking and a day full of stress that left him looking frazzled and worn (and dare he say paler than usual?). And the remark about his father, did she know more about his release from Azkaban than he did? Or did she just read the same article in the Prophet? He knew there was only one person who could answer these questions, and so he threw himself back down on the couch to continue his vigil.

"Wal—" no sooner had he began to utter the elf's name did he appear, laden with dishes so high that Draco could only see the ends of his pointed ears. Draco had forgotten his request to bring him 'whatever looked good,' which apparently was the entire content of their kitchen.

"Walby," said Draco, helping the elf unload some of the plates onto the coffee table. "I want you to tell me as soon as my mother enters this house, do you understand me? I have something very important I want to discuss with her."

Walby bowed awkwardly, still balancing a carafe on a glass cake stand. "Of course, sirs. Is there anything else Walby can be doing for master Draco?"

"No, that'll be all. Thanks again."

Walby disappeared with a crack, and Draco slumped back onto the overstuffed couch. His appetite had vanished at the sight of Pansy, yet feeling guilty that Walby had brought him so much food, he slowly began to pick at it. He wasn't exactly sure what feelings had been stirred up at the sight of her. He was angry, sure, but there was also the unavoidable and undeniable fact that he was still head over heels—no, he wouldn't let himself even think the thought. The girl had ripped out his heart and fed it to a Blast-Ended Skrewt, how could he still possibly have feelings for her?

_Easily_, said a voice in the back of his head that was definitely not his own. _ You're a sucker for girls that are terrible for you. Well, girl singular. _

_She wasn't _terrible_…_Draco argued internally.

_Right, I forgot that cheaters and liars get rewarded in your family. How's that tattoo treating you?_

Draco flexed his left forearm reflexively, knowing well what image was marred on his skin for the rest of eternity. He shook his head to try and expel the inner dialogue that was taking place. It was bad enough he had to hear this stuff from Hermione when he got home, let alone when he was by himself.

"God, I'm losing my fucking mind," Draco muttered, taking a long draw from the wine Walby had brought him.

"Aren't we all, sir?" wheezed one of the paintings hanging on the wall.

Draco raised his glass to the general direction the voice came from. "Hear, hear."

* * *

"You think I'm crazy," Hermione said bluntly as she sat across from Ginny and Harry at their flat in Diagon Alley. It was the first time she had seen either of them since she and Ron had broken up, and she expected they both felt a little guilty over the whole thing. They had made enough food to feed an army, and it all happened to be her favorite dishes. Currently, they were discussing the topic of her living arrangement with Draco.

Harry raised his hands. "Let it be known, those words _never_ came out of my mouth."

Hermione slumped in her chair. "But you're thinking it! I've known you two too long to not be able to read your expressions."

"Hermione," Ginny said gently. "When we found out you were moving in with Draco, we were a bit…"

"Surprised," said Harry, finishing her sentence.

"Surprised, but it wasn't like it was completely unexpected," said Ginny, standing and beginning to gather up their dishes.

"It wasn't?" Hermione asked.

"Well, to be honest I always thought that you two would end up…you know," said Ginny before she entered the kitchen.

"What about your brother?" asked Hermione incredulously.

Ginny reentered the dining room with three cups of tea hovering in front of her. "Oh, Hermione haven't you learned by now that Ron is a complete idiot? If he can't find a way to screw something great up then he wouldn't be himself."

Harry took a cup for himself and handed one to Hermione. "He's my best mate, but breaking up with you…that was about as stupid as when he left us in the middle of our hunt for horcruxes."

Ginny nodded emphatically. "Ron doesn't have the best track record for making intelligent decisions."

Hermione gripped her teacup without taking a sip, her insides twisting uncomfortably over the conversation about her ex. "Ron's stupidity aside, I've still got to find a new place to live. I'm sure you've heard, Lucius is being released from Azkaban in a couple weeks and I've got to get out of there before he gets wind that Draco's living with a _mudblood_," said Hermione with distaste.

"You weren't trying to find another place anyway?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, no I was," replied Hermione, slightly flustered. The question caught her off guard, all along the plan had been for her to stay with Draco until she found someplace else to live, but now she realized that Lucius' release was the driving force behind her search, not her own personal desire to be on her own. "It's just that…well having Draco as a roommate is easier than I thought it would be," she admitted. "I think I was just starting to get too comfortable."

"By the way," said Harry, cutting in before Ginny had time to respond. "Has Draco said anything about Lucius' release? They aren't letting much slip at the Ministry about it, even to me!" said Harry, clearly annoyed by the fact that his status as the 'boy-who-killed-Voldmort' didn't grant him access to this privileged information.

"Actually, I was hoping _you'd_ have something to share. Draco found out along with the rest of the world through the Prophet."

"What? He didn't know?" asked Ginny, shocked.

Hermione shook her head. "His own mother didn't even tell him, I'd expect he's with her right now finding out why."

"Such a highly functional family…" Harry muttered.

"Right, well Hermione you know you can always stay here with us," said Ginny. "For as long as you need. Frankly I'm surprised you didn't stay with us in the first place."

"Thanks, Ginny. I just…I was worried that since you and Harry see so much of Ron that it might be a little awkward."

"Listen, nothing my brother does would come between our friendship with you."

"That's right," seconded Harry.

"Thanks, truly I appreciate it. It's just that—"

"Hello, anyone home?" A voice hollered from the entranceway. "I've brought some wine, I thought you guys might fancy a drink…" Ron's voice trailed off as he entered the dining room, seeing everyone who was seated around the table. "Oh, hey guys," he said, his voice cracking as it often did when he found himself in an unpleasant situation.

Hermione sucked in air as her heart started racing as though she had just finished a marathon. It was the first time she had seen him since she had moved out, and seeing him unexpected like this when she wasn't prepared…well it was doing a number on her. The teacup she had gripped between her hands felt slick from the sudden sweat they were producing. She offered him a tight smile, but he was avoiding her eyes as if she were a basilisk.

"Ron!" Ginny stood up quickly. "What on earth are you doing here, I thought I told you we were having dinner with Hermione tonight."

"Oh, was that tonight? I could've swore you said it was tomorrow," said Ron, shifting his weight. He glanced towards the door so quickly it almost looked like a twitch.

"It's fine, I need to get going anyway," Hermione said, standing up and smoothing out her skirt, wanting to escape the apartment as quick as humanly possible. She knew she would have to get used to being around Ron if she was going to continue being friends with Ginny and Harry, but that didn't have to start tonight.

"No, don't leave on account my idiot brother!" Ginny said, ushering her to sit down.

"No, really I must get going. It was lovely seeing you two, dinner was delicious," and as Hermione turned to grab her cloak, and while everyone was standing in a flurry of nerves and tension, a tall, long haired brunette woman walked into the room and stopped next to Ron.

"Hello, I thought for a moment I was in the wrong apartment," said a woman with an American accent, her laughter revealing how unaware she was of the current awkwardness of the situation. "I'm Abigail, by the way," she said after a moment. "You three must be Harry, Ginny, and Hermione, right?"

All four of them stood in silence. Hermione soaked in the woman's appearance with wide eyes (high cheek bones, silky straight hair, straight nose) before coming back to her senses and extending her hand. "Yes, I'm Hermione." She didn't want to be rude, there was no reason to assume that this woman was more than just a friend…although she had never heard Ron mention an Abigail before.

"Hermione, it's so great to finally meet you," said Abigail, taking her hand. "I've heard so much about you."

"Have you?" Hermione asked, she could hear her voice involuntarily turning to ice.

"Yeah, Ron hasn't shut up about the three of you actually," laughed Abby, putting a hand on Ron's back.

Hermione clenched her jaw, she had a feeling she knew where this was heading and she wasn't sure if she wanted to be around to find out if she was right. And she could tell by the way that Ron's ears were turning a shockingly bright shade of red that he didn't want her to be here either.

"Well, I wish I could stay longer but I'm just on my way out," Hermione said gathering her things as quickly as she could while trying to conceal her shaking hands.

"Oh, stay at least for at least one drink!" said Abby, and as she spoke her hand slipped from Ron's back into the hand that was hanging at his side. She watched as Abby gripped it as casually as though she had done it a hundred times before.

"No, I must get going," Hermione said in a rush, more determined than she had ever been to leave a room. She glanced briefly at Harry and Ginny; Ginny was staring at her brother as if she had never seen him before, and Harry looked just as uncomfortable as Ron. "Thanks again, I'll send an owl later. It was nice meeting you," said Hermione as she ducked past Abby and Ron, and had disapparated before she could hear their salutations.

Hermione entered her apartment at a near sprint and slammed the door behind her, leaning back against the door so hard she almost smacked her head against the wood. She heaved a sigh somewhere between a sob and a groan and stood there for several minutes with her eyes closed. She had done work on herself the past couple weeks to actively try and forget the way Ron smelled, and how snug she felt with his broad shoulders felt firmly wrapped around her. But now all that came crashing back, along with the added weight of the truth she had been too ignorant to realize before that moment.

He had left her for another woman. An _American_ woman. Which meant that he had met her abroad at some point. Hermione let out another audible moan, how long had he been cheating on her? They had been dating officially for the past four years, with him traveling abroad the past two. But who knows, maybe they had met before then, in London. The idea of their relationship being a complete lie for that long made her feel ill. The fact that she had wasted so much of her time on him…

Hermione began to cry quietly to herself, and soon fell into loud uninhibited sobs. In the back of her mind she thought vaguely about how she hoped Draco wasn't home, but at that moment she didn't really care. She walked blindly into her room and tossed herself somewhat dramatically on her bed, in the same fashion she had seen teenagers on television do when their boyfriends broke up with them. It felt ridiculous to her that she should still be able to feel pain like this, hadn't she already grieved enough over their relationship? Four years of dating proceeded by ten years of friendship she had given this man, and he had the gall to cheat on her, and then bring the stupid woman over around her?

Hermione pushed herself off her bed furiously, her eyes still dripping with tears as she rummaged through some of her half unpacked boxes, until she found what she was looking for. She pulled out a particularly knobbly and uneven wooden box, one that had been handmade by Ron and given to her on their one year anniversary. In is she had filled small keepsakes from throughout their relationship, letters, pictures, stubs from different Quidditch games and the like. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the etching on the lid, _Forever and Always, Love Ron. _

"I have a plan for you, my little friend."

* * *

"Hermione?" Draco shouted as he entered through their apartment through the front door, something he normally wasn't accustomed to since he frequently traveled via the Floo network., but for some reason it was blocked. He ran into the living room, bursting to relay the conversation he just had with his mother. "Do you know why our fireplace isn't…oh." Draco cut himself off as his question was answered almost immediately. "It's a bit warm outside to be lighting a fire, don't you think?"

He walked up to Hermione who was sitting cross-legged on the floor with different pictures and pieces of paper scattered in front of her. What was more unusual was that she had an open bottle of wine in front of her with no glass to be seen.

"All the glasses dirty, then?" Draco asked, sitting down next to her and taking a swig from the bottle. Draco gave the silent Hermione a closer look. Her eyes were puffy and swollen as if she had a bad cold, or more likely, had been crying. He picked up the closest photograph in front of him and saw that it was a picture of her and Ron in front of the Eiffel Tower. Looking around, seeing the rest of the Ron related paraphernalia, the fire suddenly made sense.

"Rough day?" Draco asked gently, the thoughts about his family being overtaken by how pathetic Hermione looked.

"Ron left me for another woman," slurred Hermione, but still quite manner of fact.

"Did he now?" asked Draco, surprised not because he had left Hermione, but because the git was actually able to land another woman. He had thought for all these years Hermione was the only one stupid enough to date the idiot. "You're positive?"

"He brought her over to Harry and Ginny's while I was there for dinner. He didn't realize I'd be there though," she chuckled to herself. "So it was _quite_ a little surprise."

"And you're sure they're together?"

Hermione turned to look at him for the first time, her eyes giving him an exaggerated _please_ look. "She was holding his _hand_, and she told us, and I quote, that 'Ron hasn't shut up about us.'"

"Okay…" said Draco slowly, knowing that he should choose his next words carefully. "But maybe they just met."

"She's American, Draco!" Hermione nearly shouted, throwing her hands in the air as if that was all the explanation there needed to be.

Draco mimicked her gesture. "So?"

"So?" Hermione looked at him as though he had lost his mind. "Obviously they met when he was abroad at some point, a _while_ ago, while we were _dating_."

"Hermione," said Draco, handing her the nearly empty bottle of wine. "Just because she's foreign doesn't mean he couldn't have met her in London. Maybe she's working here, or studying. Maybe she's even on vacation—" Draco faltered under the look that Hermione was giving him.

"Are you actually _defending _him?" asked Hermione with so much disgust in her voice he had to contain a laugh.

"Of course not!" said Draco, repulsed by the very idea. "I mean let's be honest, he probably did cheat on you. I'm just saying that you should probably get all the facts before you do something rash."

"Like burning all of the remains from our relationship?" She asked, gingerly picking up a worn letter.

"Actually, I think this is a great idea, I've been wanting to do this myself for ages," said Draco, picking up the Paris photograph. "May I?"

Hermione gave him a watery smile. "Be my guest."

Draco and Hermione spent the next couple hours happily pouring over their favorite Ron-bashing stories, a pastime Draco had previously not been able to engage actively in with Hermione. He helped her finish another bottle of wine, and it wasn't until Hermione dumped a full glass of Cabernet Sauvignon on his work slacks that he decided to help her into bed.

"You didn't have to do this," Hermione said, stopping and leaning against her doorframe for support.

Draco kept his smile small, she was in a sensitive state and he didn't want her thinking he was making fun of her. It was just that he so rarely got to see her true emotions he had to relish in it, and seeing her hammered like this was quite frankly hilarious. "Do what?"

"Take care of me," she said softly.

"What are roommates for if not to help burn all the memories of their former lovers in a fireplace?" Draco asked, chuckling to himself.

Hermione laughed, but the sound was quickly cut off. Draco dropped his head slightly to look into her eyes that were beginning to fill with tears.

"Why doesn't he love me?" she asked thickly, finally lifting her head to meet Draco's eyes. There was a tone of desperation in her voice that Draco had never heard before; it made his heart ache.

Draco couldn't bring himself to answer but instead he pulled her into a tight embrace, trying his best to soothe her crying. He made up his mind, he was going to give Ron a piece of his mind the next time he saw him…he'd have to decide later if his wand was going to help.

* * *

a/n-Wow, it's been a while since my last update. Hopefully all of those who read this story when it first hatched are still out there, if not hopefully there are some new readers out there :) I humbly implore you to review (you know how much we authors like to revel in them) and as always, constructive criticism is most welcome. Oh, and just a quick note, the last line Hermione delivers is from _Almost Famous_...so think Kate Hudson when you read it.


End file.
